


At Last

by sassenachwriter



Category: Outlander (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, F/M, Post-World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 08:23:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18847258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassenachwriter/pseuds/sassenachwriter
Summary: Inspired by the book Jamie writes about Claire in “The Writer Who Loved Me”, this fic tells the story of Jamie Fraser, a soldier who moves back home in Inverness after the end of the war. He meets Claire Beauchamp, a bookstore owner, and find a muse in her.





	1. Alone and Blue as Can Be

Jamie never thought he’d live to see the end of the war. He had nothing of a soldier except his physique. Lieutenants and commanders loved his height, his long legs that made him run faster than the other men; they loved his build, his strength to carry weapons or injured mates. Everything they loved about him, it disgusted Jamie. 

Before this bloody war started, Jamie was a writer, fresh out of university, living in New York with his mother and sister. He had just started to work for a local newspaper when the United States joined the Allies in 1941 and he was sent to the front. Not as a journalist, but as a soldier. The first time he held a gun during the first week of training, he thought he was never going to see his mother’s face again. He was young, only twenty six years old with a lot of life yet to live.

He still remembered the day he learned that the war was over. He was in a field hospital, confined to bed with a bullet in his knee, hallucinating because of the morphine. After being transported back to London, he stayed in rehabilitation for a few weeks and was sent back to his family in New York, but a few months after he came back, his sister got married and he was alone with his mother. 

Of course, his mother and sister were in heaven to see him back alive, even if he constantly needed the help of a walking stick. Jamie, on the other hand, regretted every moment he spent breathing. He couldn’t bear being alive, the beating of his own heart made him sick. He didn’t deserve to live, not more than any of his friends who had lost their lives in Europe. 

In addition to his disgust of being alive, Jamie couldn’t write anymore. He spent months moping around the small apartment, unable to write down words. There was nothing he could do that could make him feel alive.

He never told his mother about it, but he tried to kill himself two months after he came back. He didn’t know what was worse, his nightmares or the inability to write. Before the war, he couldn’t spend a day without writing. He always carried a pad and a pen around, writing about everything and nothing. When he was twelve, his mother bought a typewriter for his birthday, with which he wrote his first novel, a novel he never published. After the war, every word that came out of his mind made him want to hide with shame. Shame of being alive, shame of living to write such stupidities.

So one Sunday night, after spending the day in front of this old typewriter machine without touching one key, he took a cab to the Brooklyn Bridge. He stood facing the rushing water forty meters underneath his feet for hours, tears streaming on his face until he finally decided to painfully walk back home. He would have to bear his skin for the rest of his life. 

“Maybe ye should go back home to Scotland,” his mother told him one night they were dining together. 

He looked up at her, brows furrowed. Jenny had moved back to Scotland with her husband. They lived in a small flat in Edinburgh, but he didn’t want to be a burden for them.

Jamie shook his head. “Scotland is no’ a home anymore,” he said, looking down at his plate. 

“New York is no’ a home either.”

“I canna go back to Scotland…” he whispered.

Growing up in Scotland, Jamie had spent his childhood in his ancestral home, Lallybroch, a castle standing tall in the valleys of clan Fraser. When the Great War was declared in 1914, Jamie’s father was sent in France to fight with the Allies. Pregnant Ellen Fraser decided to move with her sister to North Carolina during the war. Brian Fraser was killed in 1915, a few days after receiving a letter from his wife, saying he was the father of a beautiful, red headed son.

When the war ended, they went back to Lallybroch but it felt different, estranged, like they had never lived there before. After running out of money, the Frasers decided to move back to the United States in 1920. Ellen found a job and thought it would be best to be on a soil that wasn’t destructed by bombs. Jamie lived in a city he hated in an apartment he hated for years until he enrolled. He had no place to call a home and it would always be this way. At least, that’s what he told himself. But when his mother mentioned moving back to Scotland that night at supper, he didn’t reject the idea.

For days he thought about it and thought that maybe going back to his roots would help him with his writing. He was ready to do anything to find inspiration, to write like he did before. Passionate, fearless and simply brilliant. 

Without moving permanently, he decided to go back to the motherland for a few months. He told himself he would only come back once he wrote something. He tried to set a goal, a hundred pages, two hundred, but he thought it was pointless. His expectations were very low.

***

Jamie landed in Scotland in May 1946 with nothing but a small suitcase, his typewriter - the same one he had since he was twelve - and his walking stick. He didn’t want to stay in Edinburgh and even less in Glasgow, so he bought a train ticket for Inverness. What Jamie needed was calmness, serenity and silence. He thought Inverness was the perfect place for it, even if it was a little too close to Lallybroch for him. 

He arrived during the afternoon and stopped for tea at Mrs. Graham’s, a small coffee shop facing the River Ness. He asked her if he could leave her his suitcase for the day while he wandered around Inverness. But before he went out, he slowly drank, finally tasting good tea after years of horrible yellow piss. He closed his eyes and sighed. While eating a scone, he read the local newspapers, but closed it as soon as he turned the page on an article about the war. He couldn’t read it just now. He wanted to know more about this event. He needed to really know what he had been part of, the reason why he had killed men, the reason why thousands and thousands of people had died, the reason why his leg was crippled for life, but it was too soon. He left money on the table, drank one last sip and put his hat on his head before he walked out.

He noticed a bookstore right next to Mrs. Graham’s. He decided to go, thinking maybe a good book would help him during sleepless nights. Maybe reading would help him better than desperately trying to write. 

He saw a ‘Room for rent’ ad on the door and pulled it opened, a bell ringing when he stepped inside the place. It was much bigger from the inside, rows filled with books everywhere. Too many rows. There was a comforting smell of mint and plants in the air, a smell that pleasantly tickled his nostrils. He felt peaceful, and almost smiled. He noticed the gramophone next to the cashier, from which My Love For You by Frank Sinatra was playing.

“One minute!” he heard a feminine voice call from behind the store.

He took his hat off, starting to wander around the bookshelves. The books were dusty, ordered by the writers’ names. Jamie didn’t know exactly what he was looking for until he saw her. 

“Hello! Can I help you?”

Jamie opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. She was beautiful, with rebellious brown curls flying around her head and with shining beautiful whisky eyes. Her lips were pink and luscious, begging him to kiss her. 

She lifted her dark brows, waiting for an answer. “Has the cat got your tongue?” she smiled. The most beautiful smile he had ever seen. For the first time in months -if not years- he felt seen. He found himself smiling back, something he hadn’t done in a while. At that moment, when the corners of her mouth curled up, he knew she had cast a spell on him and that he could never leave her. Or at least, not without being haunted by her voice until his heart stopped beating.

“No,” he finally said. “I… I am looking for a book.”

“Well, you’re at the right place for that,” she smiled. He blushed, looking down at his feet. “Are you looking for something specific?” 

“No,” he was speechless. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t say a word. He knew he looked ridiculous, but he didn’t know what was happening to him. Jamie had never been in love, maybe it was like that. 

“Alright… Well, I’ll let you look around. I’ll be in the back if you need me.”

She turned around and walked to the backstore. She was wearing trousers stained with dirt and he couldn’t help but look at her bum. Swearing in his head, he looked at the books, not finding anything interesting to read. He could only think about those whisky eyes. 

After checking around, he took a deep breath and hesitantly walked towards the backstore. “Uh… Excuse me?” he asked. She came out of a room, dirt on her cheek. “Maybe I need help, after all.”

She smiled and wiped her hands on her pants. “Alright,” she took a sip from the cup of tea that was resting on one of the shelves. 

“I havena read in a verra long time. In six years, actually. I havena read a book in six years.”

He saw a shadow cross her face as she did the math, but she immediately smiled back. “Well, I can help you find something that will fit you.”

“Nothing too… Nothing about the war, nothing about… Something different.”

She frowned, a smile still glued on her beautiful lips, thinking seriously. “Maybe it’s a stupid question, but have you ever read Agatha Christie?”

“No…” he said, blushing. 

“Well, that could be a choice. Follow me.” He followed her to the front of the store were dozens of books from this writer were waiting together. “You have the choice between the elderly, amateur detective British woman Miss Jane Marple or the retired Belgian detective Hercule Poirot based in London.”

“Which one is your favourite?” he asked, the corner of his mouth curling up.

“Well… I love them all, but if you have to read one to begin with…” she looked at the books on the shelf and handed him one. And Then There Were None. “Ten people compliced of murders -but not convicted- are invited on a mysterious island where they are killed each at a time.”

Revenge, bloody trials, he thought he was going to like it. 

“I’ll take it.”

“Great!” she smiled. “I hope you will like it… I’ve never seen you around… Are you traveling?”

“Yes, you can say so. But I am staying here for a while. How much for this?”

“Oh,” she waved her hand. “Nothing. It’s on the house.”

He looked into her eyes. “Just because I have a walking stick doesna mean that I canna pay for my own books.” His voice wasn’t mean, it was only the truth.

It was her turn to blush, her cheeks turning crimson red. “I didn’t mean to… I just…”

“Dinna worry,” he smiled warmly. “I saw that ye are renting a room.”

“Yes. Are you interested?”

They walked upstairs to the room that was for rent. It was a small room with a double bed by the window facing the river. There wasn’t much in the room: a small sofa and a small kitchen. “There is only one bathroom to share with the other room.”

It was simple, but Jamie thought he could make it a home, especially if she was just next to him. “I’ll take it.”

“Great! Oh! and by the way, I am Claire.”

“Jamie,” he smiled, shaking her hand.

***

Of course, it rained that night. 

Jamie was lying in bed, looking at the water drops falling against the window. He felt surprisingly peaceful, hearing the echoes of a Ozzie Nelson record playing in Claire’s room. He found himself smiling at the thought of her. 

When he came back from the army, when he went back to New York, Jamie never thought he could be happy again. Just smiling was difficult and it took all the effort in the world to convince his mother that he was alright. When he came back, there was a heavy weight on his chest, crushing him, cutting his breath short. There was a hole in his heart that was slowly swallowing him alive. There were images burned in his head, images he could never forget and that came to haunt him when he was least expecting it. 

But when he walked into the bookstore, he had felt at peace, as if he had entered a safe haven. And when he saw her, he felt as if he could breathe again for the first time in his life. When she smiled at him, it was as if the sun returned and cast out the darkness. 

There was something about her that he found intriguing. He wanted to know everything about her, from her childhood to the reason why she owned a small shop in Inverness. She was English, that was for sure. He immediately recognized the accent when she spoke to him. He didn’t think she was from London, though. He’d known londoners during the war and they didn’t speak like she did. 

He’d seen the dirt on her trousers and by the smell in the bookstore, he thought she might be gardening in the backstore. 

Clearly, she wasn’t married. She was not wearing a ring and he had not seen a man enter the place since he first came in, almost ten hours ago. He was ashamed just to think about it, but he was happy that she probably wasn’t. 

He didn’t know much about her, but he decided that during the following months in Inverness, he was going to get to know her. 

Suddenly, he felt the need to get up and write. Putting on his pants, he got up and walked to the small table in the kitchen. He took the typewriter out of its box and sat in front of it. His bum wasn’t even seated when he typed the first word. 

She was a woman of mystery.

He couldn’t help but smile, thinking about the way her curls rioted around her face. Claire. He wanted to say it aloud, hearing how it sounded on his mouth, but he wouldn’t risk her hearing it. 

Still, Jamie was not at ease with the idea of thinking about her this way. But he couldn’t help it. 

Elizabeth. He was going to name her Elizabeth.

Jamie just started to write about this Elizabeth. He knew nothing about her, but as the words came out of his mind, as he filled pages and put them on a pile next to him, he started to get to know her. She was simply inspiring.

The hours passed and Jamie started to yawn, his eyelids becoming heavy. It had been a long day. He decided to go back to bed, bringing the papers with him. He sat against the wall, and with the light on the bed table on, he read for hours, a smile never leaving his face. He didn’t know if the reason for it was the thought of her or the accomplishment of writing pages he didn’t want to burn. 

After a while, he put them on the nightstand, turned off the light and closed his eyes, lying down on his back. He sighed, letting his mind wander. Elizabeth. He tried to think of how he was going to tell her story. Of course, he couldn’t write about a bookshop owner in Inverness. Yet, every time, his mind came back to this. He knew it was the story he had to tell. Her story.

He listened to her footsteps in the room next to his, feeling reassured by her presence. He slowly fell asleep to the words of the music playing in Claire’s room. 

''Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you  
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you  
But in your dreams, whatever they be  
Dream a little dream of me''


	2. A New Life

Jamie woke up at dawn. After rolling in bed, unable to fall asleep again, he decided to read the book Claire had given him, thinking it would give them something to talk about. 

He wasn’t expecting anything, but when the first guest was killed, he was hooked. He read for hours, until couldn’t feel his butt resting against the sheets on his bed. 

Closing the book on the nightstand, he crawled out of bed and got dressed, ready to start the day. He was just putting on a sweater when he heard a shy knock at his door. Even if he was surprised to see Claire —-he wasn’t expecting anyone else — he smiled, feeling his cheeks turning pink when he opened the door. “Good morning.”

“Good morning. I just wanted to ask if you would like to have breakfast? I have scones and tea downstairs… I was just about to eat, but I can wait for you, if you want?”

He nodded, trying to find something to say, but no words came out of his mouth.

“Alright, well… I’ll be downstairs,” she laughed nervously and walked away.

When she heard him walk down the stairs, Claire called after Jamie. He followed her voice to the backstore, where she was preparing plates for breakfast. 

“Smells good,” he said, taking the seat she was offering him. 

“Yes! Every morning, Miss Graham from the coffee shop next door comes by to give me breakfast. In exchange, I give her her weekly sample of a magazine from Washington,” she explained, putting a large scone in the plate in front of him. “Tea?”

“Yes, please,” he answered, looking up at her. Her hair was just as curly as it had been the previous day, and she was wearing a white dress, with a tartan shawl around her shoulders. He didn’t know why, but she was even more beautiful than the day before. 

She poured tea in a small cup in front of him and sat down on the chair to his left. “Do you pray before eating?” she asked him.

“Uhm… No. Do ye?”

“No,” she said, looking down at her plate. “Well… Bon appétit, then.”

“Aye,” he said, the corner of his mouth curling up. “Bon appétit.”

The sun was shining through the window facing a garden, warming the room. Jamie took a sip of the burning beverage and smiled. Nothing better to start the day. He had missed his daily cup of tea during the war. But he didn’t want to think about it, so he pushed all thoughts related to the war away and simply looked at Claire, happy that it was over. 

She was reading the newspaper while eating her scone, her brows frowning as she read an article. There was a curl falling in front of her face and he really wanted to put it behind her ear. She suddenly looked up at him, making him blush and look down at his scone.

“How did you like the room?” she asked. “Was the bed comfortable?”

He nodded, taking a small bite of his breakfast. “Yes, it was. Much more than the one I had in New York.”

“Oh.” She put the newspaper away, interested to hear more, “So that’s where you are from. New York. I knew the Scottish accent sounded distorted,” she smiled into her cup of tea.

“What about ye? Yer no’ Scottish. Where are ye from?”

She shrugged, putting her cup of tea down on the table. She was graceful in all of her movements, smiling softly, the sun shining in her hair. “Everywhere and nowhere, I guess. I was born and I grew up in Oxford, but I spent my childhood in Egypt, in Ireland, in Chile, and in many other countries. My uncle was an archeologist,” she added, seeing the puzzled look on his face. “I was raised by him, after… well, after my parents died.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“They died during the Great War. In a bombing.” She shrugged, smiling sadly. “It was a very long time ago… more than twenty-five years ago now.”

“The pain of losing yer parents never leaves ye. I lost my father during the war as well. I was only a few days old,” he said, but immediately regretted talking about the war. “So ye lived in Egypt? It must be hot.” He wanted to change the subject, but he was also interested to learn more about this mysterious Claire Beauchamp. 

“Well, it can be,” she smiled, taking the last sip of her tea before pouring more into her cup. “It’s a beautiful country, but my favorite place really is Inverness. It feels like home.”

“Aye, and ye have the perfect location. In front of the river, close to the market…”

“Right next to the best scones in town,” Claire chuckled, lifting her last bit of it before putting it into her mouth.

“I dinna ken when the last time was that I ate a scone that delicious.”

“Well, if you want more, she brings me food every morning.”

Jamie nodded, happy to have the chance to share breakfast with her every day. 

“I saw the wee table at the front of the store. With some books and papers on it. I wanted to know if ye’d mind if I rented it from ye?”

“You want to rent the table?”

“No, the location. It’s just by the window, facing the street and the river, and there is a warm beam of sun in the afternoon. I’d like to put my typewriter in that location and work from there.”

“You’re a writer?” she asked, surprised.

“Well… I was trying to be one before… now I might try again.”

She smiled, honestly pleased by his request. “Of course! I’d love to. There aren’t that many people who come here. I’d like some company.” 

Jamie finished eating his scone in silence, looking shyly at her drinking tea. He tried not to look too happy about it, but he was excited to start over again. 

***

They lived in the same pattern for days. Every morning, Jamie walked downstairs to find her reading the newspaper, waiting for him before eating her breakfast. They ate together; sometimes talking, sometimes simply enjoying the silence in the room. After breakfast, Jamie would sit behind his typewriter by the bay window and write. He wrote pages and pages, without even thinking. Words simply flowed out of him. While he typed on his machine, Claire would wander throughout the store, placing books on the shelves or rearranging them differently. When people entered her shop, she was always smiling and warmly welcoming them. Jamie noticed that almost everyone that came in left with at least a book in hand. There was something about her — about her passion for each book in the place — that was irresistible to both the customers and Jamie. 

After lunch, while Jamie would continue writing, Claire would venture into the small garden outside or into the backstore, depending on the weather. She closed the bookstore at 4 p.m. from Monday to Thursday, so she had time to go to the market. After she closed the store, Jamie would usually go to his room to make dinner and eat alone while listening to the radio. After dinner, he liked to walk by the river. He didn’t walk for long, but long enough to reach a bench and read one of the books she gave him. 

But every time he was away from the store, no matter how beautiful the night was, he missed her comforting presence.There was always a record playing in the store, and she was always humming the song, walking around as if she was dancing. 

She would often smile at him, bringing him more tea or some fruits from her garden to eat. She didn’t know it, but he wrote down everything she did. He didn’t know how she did it, but she managed to make him smile every single day. She even made him question himself about how it was possible that he spent so much time without doing it. The butterflies in his stomach, his sweaty palms, his heart beating so fast he was afraid it would jump out of his chest — every day, he knew it. He wanted to spend the rest of his days around her.

He tried to think about all the decisions that had led him there. He could have died during the war, or his disability could have affected his chances of living. He could have decided to move to London instead of Inverness, or to Paris or Boston, but he had ended up here. In a small town, in a quaint bookstore, where he wrote on a small table by the window. He pretended the window was the best place where he could write, because he could look outside, feel the sun caress his face after lunch time, and have light to work in. As much as he enjoyed it, these were only excuses. He didn’t care about anything that was happening outside of this bookstore. He didn’t need the sun when she was standing just in front of him. The reason why he had chosen this spot was that this way, he could always watch her work. He needed to watch her if he wanted to get the details right. He was afraid that if he looked away — even just for a second — she would simply disappear, like everything that had belonged to him before the war. He was afraid that if he looked away, he would forget her. Even if for just a few seconds, he couldn’t bear the thought of it. 

In the days following his arrival, he got to know her better. During their shared breakfast, she often told him tales of her travels with her uncle —Uncle Lamb, she fondly called him — or stories of her years working as a nurse in the army. At first, Jamie didn’t want to hear anything about the war, but when she told him about serving with the British army, he found himself captivated. He always wanted to learn more about her life during the war, about how she had felt —scared and alone, or surrounded by people feeling just like her — and he even asked about injuries she had healed from.

He had promised himself that he would not write about the war; yet, he found himself telling the story of Elizabeth Moriston, a nurse for the British army during the Second World War. He wrote about her everyday life and the misery of the people she eventually healed. After thinking about it, he decided to introduce a new character. Alexander Malcolm, a doctor working with Elizabeth. The way Jamie wrote Malcolm was nothing like him. Malcolm was a tough guy, a real soldier with a kind heart. Jamie had been weak and scared during the war, Malcolm never was. The only trait Jamie and Malcolm had in common was their love for Elizabeth, and the only weakness they shared was their fear of telling her how they felt. Even if they were different on every other level, Jamie related to him. 

Malcolm was the person Jamie wished he’d been during the war, Malcolm was the person Jamie wished he was now. Courageous and brave.

“I’d like to know what you’re writing, one day.”

Jamie looked up from his typewriter to see Claire smiling at him from a stool. She was dusting the books on the top shelf of a classical novel section. 

He blushed, shrugging uncomfortably. “‘Tis no’ so good.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“Well, maybe I’ll show ye one day.”

“What is it about?”

He thought for a moment before answering. “The war.”

She smirked, getting down from the stool. “Can you give a hint?”

“A woman… A fierce woman,” he said, the corner of his mouth slowly curling up. “The life of this fierce woman during the war.”

She wiped her hands on her green trousers. “That sounds interesting. Are you sure you don’t have a part I can read? I could give you tips… you know, from a woman’s point of view.”

He took the pile of paper next to him and looked through the pages, taking one out. “Maybe this part.”

She came to stand next to him to read over his shoulder. Her arm brushed against him, making him freeze. Claire, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered by their first physical contact. 

He felt his cheeks slowly turn red, and his breath grew shorter as she read the paper. He was intoxicated by the smell of her and roused by the warmth of her body. 

The time she spent bent over his shoulder went on too fast and too slow at the same time. Jamie wasn’t used to feel this way — in fact, he wasn’t used to feel anything other than pain since the war ended — and he had never felt this way around a woman before. He didn’t know what to do: questioning whether he should he move forward or step back, whether he should look up at her or pretend it was nothing to him.

Before he even realized it, she was done reading and straightened up. “It’s great.” She walked back to her stool, looking behind her shoulder at him, a smile on her face. 

“That’s all?” he asked, relieved that she’d liked it.

“I love how you portray this woman’s feelings... about being alone and scared. It’s not too much, yet it’s enough for the reader to believe it. It’s not too dark, but there’s something… beautifully tragic about it.”

“Thank you,” he said politely and went on with his writing. Feeling her eyes on him, he looked up after typing a few words. “What?” he asked with a nervous laugh.

“This… doctor Malcolm…” She trailed off, making him blush. In the scene that he made her read, Elizabeth is laying sleepless in her camp bed in France. It’s a small part of the story in which she thinks about her day and a few of the surgeries she did with Doctor Malcolm. At this point in the book, it is not explicitly clear that he has feelings for her. In her monologue, Elizabeth tries to imagine where her injured soldiers are from and what their stories are.

During the war, Jamie’s writer mind had thought a lot about this topic. When he was waiting for orders or was patrolling, he would look at his mates and try to imagine their lives outside this bloody war. Where they were from, what their childhoods had been like, whether they were married or had kids. Most of the time, they didn’t live long enough to tell Jamie their story.

“Yes?”

“Is he interested in her?”

“Yes,” Jamie said simply, looking into her eyes. “Actually, he thinks she’s wonderful. He’s inspired and surprised by her drive and wit. He’s proud, so he doesn’t admit that she’s better than him at first, but the more time they spend together, the more he realizes that he doesn’t care if she’s better than him. He loves her.” Jamie shrugged.

Claire was looking at him with a wild smirk on her face. “I can’t wait to read more about her. She’s really interesting.”

She wasn’t aware that this character was inspired by her. During their breakfast talks, Jamie realized that Claire didn’t seem to be very confident. She often stepped back after answering brilliant things or simply didn’t say everything she had to say. By writing this character, he hoped that through his eyes, she would realize how amazing she is.

“She is,” Jamie smiled. “She really is.”

“I’d be interested to read more, one day,” she said, climbing on the stool. “If you want.”

“Of course.”

***

It was another rainy night, with music coming from Claire’s room. This time, she was listening to an Ella Fitzgerald record. She seemed to love this one, as he often heard her listen to it.

Jamie was sitting in bed, looking out the window, another Agatha Christie book open on his lap. It was the eighth book of hers that he was reading. Murder Is Easy, Claire’s favorite, and he would be lying if he said it wasn’t his favorite as well. Set in a very British village, Jamie loved the dreadful atmosphere in the book. It was dark, yet it sometimes made him smile. 

He was almost done, and he was soon going to find who the murderer was. His bet had been on Ellsworthy since the beginning, yet now he was sure it wasn’t him. As always, he was expecting to be swept off his feet when the writer revealed their identity.

He loved reading Agatha Christie’s books. She really was a talented writer, and he discovered a keen interest in mystery novels. As much as he respected her, he was reading them all for Claire. He was reading them because he knew she was going to ask him about them. The books not only gave him the opportunity to talk with her, but the books were also a window to her soul. He learned more about her through the books she read than through the things she told him about her.

When he finished the book, he closed it with a smile on his face and put it on the nightstand. He laid down and looked at the ceiling, thinking about his reading — trying to think about the evidence the writer had placed throughout the story. Every time, his thoughts drifted off to her.

He sighed, looking at a water drop sliding down the window. He had been in Inverness for almost a month now, and he felt moons away from the person he was before. He missed his mother, but he didn’t want to go back ever again. He loved being in Scotland; for the first time in his life, he felt at home. Maybe it was because of Claire; maybe it was the bookshop, or simply the town; maybe he was just at the right place at the right moment, but he was inspired. And he didn’t want to let go of this feeling. 

Every time he sat in front of his typewriter, he wrote without thinking too hard. He wrote words that he meant and words he needed to write. The nightmares of the war he wrote down didn’t come to haunt him at night again. He lived in peace with the regrets of the friends he couldn’t save, the innocent lives he couldn’t protect. Regrets that could swallow him alive before; but now, after he wrote about them, he accepted those scars and went on living with them. 

He realized that he was writing for a purpose that was more than showing the world how amazing Claire Beauchamp was. Yes, she was the center of everything he wrote, but he used his talent, his art, to shed himself of things that stopped him from being who he was supposed to be. He wrote to be born again.


	3. You’ve Got a Friend

Every morning, Jamie tried to walk without his stick. He tried small distances: from one side of the bed to the other; from the bed to the kitchen table; or from one side of the room to the other. Every time, Jamie would hold the stick in his hand but not put any weight on it. This morning, Jamie wanted to cross the room on his own. 

As a child, Jamie ran everywhere on the land surrounding his house. When he was in New York, he liked to run around the block with his friends, pretending they were dragons and knights. Even as an adult, when he was attending university, he could barely stay still during classes. 

This walking stick felt like cuffs — chains holding him to the ground. He needed to break them; so every day, he tried to walk on his own, even if the doctor had told him it was never going to be possible. Jamie didn’t know if he still believed in God, but he was hoping for a miracle.

He was halfway through the kitchen, his forehead sweaty from the effort. He looked behind him, at the walking stick on the bed, before turning back around. Even if he made it to the bathroom, he would still have to walk back to the bed without it. 

His leg grew tired and hurt terribly, sending electrical shocks through his leg and into his back. He wanted to cry from the pain and despair. “Come on,” he whispered between clenched teeth. He couldn’t lift his leg, and every piece of furniture in the room was too far away from him. 

Taking a step forward, his foot became caught in the carpet and he fell, hitting his head on the floor.

***

Claire rushed into the room as soon as she heard the bang and Jamie cry out in pain. She found him lying unconscious on the ground. She kneeled next to him, putting a hand on his cheek. “Jamie,” she called him, and he opened his eyes. 

“What?” he asked, looking around him, confused. He tried to sit up, but she placed her hand on his bare chest. 

“Not so fast. You’ll get dizzy.” He nodded and laid back, his eyes never leaving her. She stood and went to the kitchen, bringing back a wet cloth with her and placing it on his head. “Are you alright? What happened?”

He blushed in shame. “I was just trying to walk without the stick,” he sighed. 

“That sounds like a brilliant idea.” She rolled her eyes as she sat next to him. 

“Well… I thought it was at first, now I’m no’ so sure. I guess I’ll be stuck with the stick for the rest of my life.”

“I think it’s charming.” She shrugged, smiling.

The corner of his mouth curled up, and he relaxed, soothed by her calming presence and kindness. He realized she was wearing only a nightgown and he looked away, swallowing. 

“Come on, sit up slowly.” She helped him along the way, her skin burning against his. “There. Are you alright?”

“Aye, my sister used to say my head is harder than a cast iron pot. I should be fine,” he smiled.

They looked at each other for a moment, until they both seemed to realize they were half-naked in front of one another, with Jamie wearing only his underwear. Claire cleared her throat as she stood back up, crossing her arms against her chest. “You’re sure you’re alright?”

“Aye,” Jamie blushed, looking away. “Maybe ye can help me get up and give me the stick.”

“Yes, of course.” She went to grab the stick and came back, helping him get up. Once he was on his feet, he took the stick from her hand. They were still holding hands, looking at each other. This time, it was Claire’s turn to blush before she nodded and left the room.

As he walked down the stairs, Jamie felt a little dizzy. His head felt as if it was spinning, but he wondered if it was because of the fall or how he felt around Claire. She was already sitting in the kitchen, reading the newspaper like she did every morning while sipping her tea. “Good morning,” he said, entering the small room. “We didn’t say it earlier,” he smiled, sitting to her right.

“Good morning,” she smiled in return. “Tea?”

“Please.” He looked at her as she poured him a cup. Her hair was up in a bun and she was wearing a brown sweater. “Thank you,” he smiled. 

They ate cinnamon rolls in silence, enjoying the comfortable silence between the two of them. 

“I’m going to the market,” Claire finally said. “Would you like to come with me? It’s not very far, I just need to buy something for dinner.”

“Aye, I’d like to go,” Jamie agreed.

The market wasn’t very far away, yet it seemed like an endless walk for Jamie’s leg. His entire body was soaked in sweat and every step pained him more, but he didn’t want Claire to know it. If she knew, she would immediately force him to go back to the store, and he enjoyed being out with her. It was an early Saturday morning and many people were out enjoying the sun.

“I almost finished my book. Or, at least, the first draft.”

“That was fast.”

“I was inspired,” Jamie looked at her and smiled.

“I hope your character and Malcolm have a happy ending.”

“Oh, they’re not over yet. I mean to write another book after this one. I dinna ken if people will like it, but I do, and I already have ideas for the next one.”

She smiled, the wind making riotous curls fly around her face. She was so lovely, all excited about his project even if he hadn’t let her read much, due to him being too shy and ashamed. He wanted her to read it and know that he wrote it all for her, but he was afraid she wasn’t going to like it — that she was going to ask him to stop, or that maybe she didn’t feel the same way he did. He couldn’t bear the thought.

It was selfish and he knew it, but he couldn’t imagine leaving her, this place, or this life he lived. She was part of his life now — every morning, they ate together and talked. He liked talking to her because he knew she listened to him. His mother did too, but she couldn’t understand him like Claire did. He loved listening to Claire even more. Everything she talked about, she spoke about it with passion. He loved getting drunk on her whisky eyes, mesmerized by every word she spoke, every move her hands made while she talked. He could listen to her for the rest of his days and never tire of it.

If she didn’t feel the same way about him, he wasn’t sure if he would survive. Before, he thought he had nothing to lose, but that had been a lie. She was everything to him.

“Oh my God!” she exclaimed, surprising him. There was a puppy in a box, located next to an artist selling paintings. “Look at you,” Claire said in a high-pitched voice, bending towards the dog. A beautiful brown labrador jumped on her lap and licked her face. She laughed, running her hand on top of the dog’s head. “She’s beautiful.”

“And she’s yours for £25.”

“That’s a bit expensive, don’t you think?” Jamie asked the man.

Claire stood back up, placing the labrador back in the box. When Claire walked away, the puppy tried to follow her; but the man immediately called after the puppy, who returned to her box, tail between her legs.

They continued walking, and Jamie could see that Claire was sad. “She was cute.”

“Yes,” she sighed, looking down at her feet. “I always wanted to have a dog. When I was small, I annoyed my parents by asking them for a puppy on every one of my birthdays.”

“You never had one?”

“No. And with my uncle, we didn’t have a home. We were always travelling, which is not the best way of living when you own a pet. I guess it’s just not for me.” Her voice was hoarse. “Anyway...”

Throughout the rest of the day, Claire was silent. She barely spoke to Jamie, except for the necessary comments. He could see her heart was breaking after meeting the dog, and his own heart was breaking to see her like this. He tried to make her laugh, but his attempt at humor only made her force a smile. 

When they returned home, she immediately walked into her room without saying goodbye, leaving him alone. As soon as the door was closed, he heard All of Me by Billie Holiday start to play. 

He sighed and walked to his room to make tea. 

He felt bad for her, he really did. The moment she laid eyes on the dog, the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen appeared on her face. He’d never seen her so happy, and it hurt that he couldn’t buy the dog for her. 

While the water was boiling, Jamie walked to the window and looked outside. He couldn’t just go and buy the dog for Claire, he rationalized. He didn’t have money, and Claire would eventually find a dog she loves that wasn’t too expensive. Yet, he soon found himself walking down the stairs of the house.

As he headed towards the market, Jamie saw that the artist was packing up. “Wait!” he called after him. 

“I’m closing up for the day,” the old man said.

“ I want to buy the dog!”

“Do ye have the £25 with you?”

“No, but—”

“No dog then,’ the man said, his cigarette dangling between his teeth. “Have a good day, sir.” 

“Wait, please! I’m sure we can make a deal. Look, I’m a writer…”

“Good for you.”

“I mean, I am writing a book at the moment. When I sell it, I’ll give you the money.”

The man frowned, the corner of his mouth curling up. “Aye, of course. And I am Franklin Roosevelt.”

“No, please, listen.”

He sighed, closing his arms on his chest. “What?”

“I can give you a part of the money now, and when I sell the book, I promise I’ll give you the rest.”

“Why do ye want this dog so much?”

“It’s not me,” Jamie said. “My friend… she’s a—”

“Ah, it’s for a lass,” the man said, smiling. “Ye should’ve said it earlier. The lass ye were with earlier?”

“Aye,” Jamie said, his cheeks turning pink. “She was verra fond of the dog, and…”

“Alright,” the man sighed. “After the last few years we spent during the war, I guess we can still act like humans. She’s yours.”

***

His walking stick in hand, the beautiful young lab in the other, Jamie made his way back to the store. He tried to act nonchalantly, but he was so excited. His hands were sweating and there was a weight forming in his stomach. He couldn’t wait to see Claire’s face when she saw the dog. 

She was growing heavy in his arm, but he was almost there. Climbing the stairs was more difficult than he thought it would be, so he gently placed the dog on the floor and walked behind her. He didn’t know if she recognized Claire’s smell, but her tail was twirling and her tongue was out, looking at Jamie with round brown eyes. 

“Good girl,” Jamie whispered, breathless. 

Once he was on the second floor, Jamie took a second to catch his breath. Taking the dog into his arms, he finally knocked on Claire’s door.

He heard her footsteps coming towards the door, his heart hammering in his chest. She opened the door, and when she laid her eyes on the dog, a smile slowly grew on her face. “You didn’t!” she exclaimed.

“Aye,” Jamie smiled, and the dog jumped into Claire’s arms. 

“Oh my God, Jamie!” she said, looking down at the puppy in her arms. “Look at you, you’re so beautiful.” She talked to the dog with that same high-pitched voice, laughing while patting her back.

“She’s yers, now. Ye have a friend.”

For the first time since she opened the door, Claire looked up at him, her eyes veiled with tears. “Thank you so much.”

She surprised him by hugging him tightly, crushing the dog between them. He laughed, putting a hand behind her back. “When I saw ye two… I knew it was love at first sight. And ye always speak about wanting some company, so…”

“Thank you,” she looked down at the dog. “You need a bath, don’t you? Yes, you do.” Claire laughed when the dog licked her face. “Come on in?” she asked Jamie.

“Oh… Okay…” he said, and stepped into the apartment. There was a comforting smell of tomato sauce in the air, making Jamie’s stomach rumble. 

“Are you hungry?” Claire asked without looking at him, bending down to put the dog on the floor.

“Aye.”

“I was just about to eat. Do you want to share dinner with me?”

Jamie shrugged, looking around. The Billie Holiday record was still playing and some candles were lit around the place, making the room feel warm. “I dinna wish to bother ye.”

“You’re not bothering me at all! Eh, pretty dog? You don’t mind if Mr. Fraser stays with us tonight?” Claire smiled up at him, patting the dog on the head. “See, she doesn’t mind.”

They ate mainly in silence, listening to the sound of the thunder outside. From time to time, they talked about books, but Claire spent most of the dinner looking at the dog who was sitting next to her, waiting for a bite from Claire’s plate. “What do you think I should name her?”

“I don’t know. It’s you who always dreamed of having a dog. What did ye want to name yer dog when ye were younger?”

A smile lit up her face. “Well… that’s too embarrassing to say.”

“Well now that ye started talking about it, ye dinna have any other choice but to go on wi’ yer story,” Jamie said playfully.

She chuckled, slightly blushing. “Well, there was Choco, Barker, Colette…”

“Oh, I love that one. I think it would fit her. Colette Beauchamp,” he said, testing how it sounded. She looked at him and burst out a laugh. Jamie joined her, looking down at the dog who was now looking from Jamie to Claire, not understanding what was going on.

“She will be Colette Beauchamp, then,” she said, wiping a tear away. “I’m going to buy her a pink necklace and she’s going to look like a real snob.”

“She’s British after all,” Jamie joked, receiving a swipe on the face from Claire’s napkin, only making him laugh more. “Alright, alright!” He lifted his hands in front of him. 

“Your apologies to Miss Colette Beauchamp,” she said, grinning.

He sighed dramatically and threw a piece of pasta at the dog, who caught it in the air. “Sorry, Colette.”

The dog twirled her tail, looking at him with her wild brown eyes, hoping for another bite of pasta. “She says thank you,” Claire smiled fondly at him. 

“I dinna want her to have something against me. She has big teeth…”

Patting her head, Claire looked down at the dog. “Mr. Jamie is a friend, you don’t attack him.”

Jamie couldn’t help but smile, his heart beaming with happiness at the sight of Claire with her new brown-haired friend. No matter how much it had cost him, he didn’t care. Her smile was worth it.

***

Jamie helped her clean up the dishes and wash Colette in the bath. He didn’t know where the dog was from, but she smelled of a mixture of piss, smoke, and fish. Claire used soap she made from plants, which she called “Rainforest”. Once the dog was cleaned, Claire lita few candles around the house and opened several windows.

“Thank you again,” she told him, standing in front of the door. He was just about to return to his room, but she wished he could stay a little bit longer.

“It was my pleasure, Claire. I’ll be happy to see Colette around too, ye ken?”

She nodded, smiling shyly. “Still… nobody has ever done something like that for me, so…” she admitted, her cheeks turning pink. “I really appreciate it.”

He looked at her, feeling his heart begin to hammer in his chest with love and pride. He was starting to believe that maybe he really meant something to her, even though he didn’t want to hope too much and have his heart broken. “Och, ‘tis nothing. It is the cost to endure having me here all day long.”

“Oh, I don’t mind at all, I told you. I’ve spent my life being alone, so some company is appreciated. And you’re kind. And funny.”

“Funny?” He raised his eyebrows, the corner of his mouth curling up. “I’m not funny.”

“Yes! Yes, you are, stop saying that.” She gently punched his shoulder. 

“Alright,” he laughed, lifting a hand in self defense. 

“Say it.”

“What?”

“Say you’re funny.”

He looked at her, blinking, his cheeks turning pink. He opened his mouth to speak, but immediately closed it, not sure about what to say.

“Say ‘I’m funny’.”

He frowned, chuckling. “I am funny.”

“See? That wasn’t too hard.” She smiled, looking at his flushed face. “Don’t blush.”

Her command only made him blush deeper.

“I should go,” he said, clearing his throat.

“Yes, go before you combust,” she teased him. 

“Haha. Verra funny,” he said sarcastically, but couldn’t help the smile from spreading across his face. “Good night, Claire.”

“Good night.” She watched him walk to his room and smiled one last time at him before closing the door. 

Jamie made his way to the bedroom, smiling like an idiot. His heart was beating fast in his chest, and he felt the butterflies in his stomach. He couldn’t believe how happy she made him. He wanted to hear her laugh again, to see her smile and tease him. 

He laid down and let out a sigh, closing his eyes. Before he met her, there were some nights when he went to bed, he hoped he wouldn’t wake up the morning after. He would wish that his life would simply leave his body and he’d die quietly in his sleep, not having to face another day.

Now, whenever he went to sleep, Jamie looked forward to waking up and seeing Claire’s warm smile and hearing the beautiful sound of her laughter. He was looking forward to talking with her, or simply enjoying eating in silence with her, or engaging in their little dance around the store, while he wrote and she worked. 

She had given him not only a reason to smile, but also a reason to live. He was ready to do anything he could to thank her for it.


	4. Day by Day

“Who’s a pretty dog? Huh? Who’s a pretty dog?” Jamie heard Claire say in a high-pitched voice as he walked down the stairs. “Yes, baby, it’s you.”

“Good morning.”

She looked up from Colette who was currently sitting next to her at the table, again hoping to taste the croissant Mrs. Graham had brought. Claire’s smile grew wider when she saw him. “Good morning. Ye slept well? I could hear Colette snoring from my room,” he smiled, sitting down on the chair next to her.

“Well… I sleep like a log so I didn’t really hear her, but I must admit it took me some time to fall asleep,” she chuckled. “I’ll get used to it. Tonight she’ll sleep with me in the bed, though. She was still wet from her bath last night, but tonight she’ll be fine.”

Jamie smiled, looking down at the dog. She had moved positions and laid her head on his leg, looking at him with round eyes. “Oh, dinna look at me like that, a leannan.”

“She wants your breakfast,” Claire smiled, taking a bite from her own croissant. She couldn’t help but smile watching them together. “I think she finds you cute.”

Jamie looked up at her, blushing. “She has taste then,” he managed to joke.

She laughed, shaking her head, making her curls fly around her head. “She does,” Claire admitted before getting up to head to work. Jamie watched her walked away, not sure he had heard her correctly. 

They spent the day without talking much. There was a steady flow of customers during the afternoon — visitors from the city who came to see Claire’s book selection after sipping a hot tea at Mrs. Graham’s. 

The visitors stayed for a moment, hiding from the rain that was falling upon Inverness. Jamie was always surprised by how kind and talkative Claire was with the customers, smiling and charming. She talked to them about the bookstore she had bought just after the end of the war. She told them how messy and run down the place was when she first came; all dusty and disorganized, old books nobody was interested in sleeping on the shelves. 

From his table in the corner of the store, Jamie couldn’t help but look as she talked with them, a small smile forming on his lips. She was wearing round golden glasses on the tip of her nose, her curls a mess because of the humidity in the store. She never looked more beautiful than she did in those navy blue pants with the light-flower-patterned white shirt.

The guests were as captivated by her as Jamie was, asking questions about the place and about her book suggestions. Around an hour later, when the rain stopped, they thanked Claire for their time and left, books in hands. Claire waved goodbye and watched with a smile on her face as they left.

She turned to go back to her work when she caught Jamie staring at her. “What?” she asked, a little breathless after talking so much.

“Nothing,” he shrugged and looked down at his typewriter. He felt her eyes on him. “What?” It was his turn to ask.

“Nothing.”

Frowning, he went on writing, but couldn’t concentrate. “I can hear ye thinking from here. What is it?”

“I’m just… I’m just curious about what you’re writing, that’s all.” She shrugged, blushing slightly, and returned to her work. 

Every time she asked questions about his book, he became incredibly nervous. He desperately wanted her to read it, but he was afraid. He wasn’t ready.

“I promise, I’ll let ye read it when I’m done.”

She waved a hand, grabbing a pile of books and walking toward an aisle. “Don’t worry. I don’t want to pressure you and all, I’m just curious. A reader’s curiosity, I guess.”

“I just hope ye’ll like it.”

She grunted. “Of course I will. Jesus H. Christ, I loved the part you made me read. Why are you so insecure about your book, anyway?” she asked him, coming out from behind the library. “You’ve let people read your stuff before.”

“Aye, but ‘tis a bit different.”

She frowned, but the smile never left her eyes. “Well… when everything’s ready, I want to be the first to read it.”

***

The day went on uneventfully. After closing the store, Claire took a walk with Colette and came back to prepare dinner while listening to one of her favourite blues record. 

Claire always loved to listen to music. Ever since she was a child, it was through the music she heard which she could express her emotions, even if she had never played an instrument. She listened to music that reflected the state of her soul. After the war, Claire listened to music because she couldn’t bear the weight of silence anymore. Deadly silence, silence of despair, she needed to hear something. Music also helped her feel surrounded.

The only time she hadn’t felt alone was when her parents were alive. Her uncle was the best, but he wasn’t used to having a young girl to take care of. He was always busy; and even though he cared for her, he was never able to bond very deeply with her. She never had friends — she was more of a solitary soul, reading books or drawing sketches in a notebook in Egypt while her uncle’s team worked. During the war, she became friends with the nurses and met some soldiers, helping them forget the reality of their situation. But even if they offered comfort for a night, she still woke up physically alone. 

She never really cared about being alone before. In fact, she felt better this way. Alone in her little bubble, nothing could happen to her. However, as time went by — especially after the war ended — she started to feel the need for connection more than ever. She didn’t only want, she also needed someone to talk to; someone to just spend time with, even if there was no speaking involved. 

When she bought the bookstore, she figured she would have a lot of visitors and that she would make friends, since people in small villages knew everybody. However, she was still alone, surrounded by books taking dust. After a few months, she started to feel desperate, thinking she was going to die alone. With no family, with no significant other, with no friend.

Until Jamie Fraser walked into the store, like the answer to her prayers she’d been waiting for. 

That feeling of loneliness had disappeared, ever since he began writing his books on the small table by the window. He was the friend she always hoped for, and he was slowly becoming her only family. He had not only brought her joy and hope, but also Colette. Another friend, someone to talk to; just a presence, but mostly somebody to love. 

During the first days he worked in the store, she was grateful to have him around because he made her smile. She liked his charming clumsiness and the way his cheeks turned pink whenever she teased him. But the more time they spent together, the more she started to feel like she had never felt before.

He made her heart beat faster. He made her feel butterflies in her stomach, and he made her hands sweaty whenever he looked at her. She was falling in love with him. Just the thought of him or his mop of red hair made her smile like an idiot, and just the smell of him while she was working in the store gave her reassurance and security.

It was another rainy Saturday night in the Highlands, and Claire didn’t want to spend it alone. She knew she spent most of her days in Jamie’s company, but they rarely saw one another after dinner time. She wanted to give him space and she enjoyed being left alone in her thoughts as well. But that night, she racked her mind to try and find a way to see him — some type of idea that would require her knocking at his door. 

She looked up from the couch and saw a bottle of whisky standing alone on a shelf. A customer had given it to her a few weeks ago and she still had not opened it.

Before she could think reasonably and change her mind, she jumped onto her feet and grabbed the whisky bottle. She left her apartment and knocked on his door. 

She heard the sound of his footsteps, accompanied by the sound of his walking stick. Her heart beat faster as he walked closer to the door. When he opened it, he was smiling, clearly not expecting her.

“Hey,” she smiled nervously, putting a curl behind her ear. “So, this bottle of scotch has been waiting for me for weeks, and I thought we could open it together before it’s expired.”

He lifted a red brow. “Ye ken scotch doesna expire, right?”

She swore in her head, feeling ridiculous. “I mean, before it becomes too strong…”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Aye, of course. I canna say no to a glass of whisky.”

They were sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace, sipping their glasses of whisky. The rest of the room was dark and there was a Jo Stafford ‘45 record playing in the background. Colette was sleeping by their feet, snoring loudly.

Jamie looked down at the dog, laughing. “She’s had a verra long day, apparently.”

“Yes, doing nothing but sleeping under the sun all day long and eating is very tiring,” Claire smiled. “She’s so beautiful. Every day she grows up a little and she’s prettier. Her eyes are so beautiful, they’re three shades of brown. How old do you think she is?”

He shrugged. “She must no’ be more than a few months old… Maximum six.” He looked up at Claire. Seeing the shadows of the fire on her face only made her even more beautiful. 

She turned to look at him, meeting his eyes. “Do you like the whisky? I don’t know much about strong alcohol, so I want the opinion of an expert,” she chuckled.

He turned the liquid in his glass and breathed it in deeply, making her laugh. He took a sip and tasted it loudly. “‘Tis fine whisky,” he said with a stronger Scottish accent than usual.

“Good, I wouldn’t want to host you with poor drinks.”

“Ah, weel… I’ve had my share of bad drinks, but this one is really good. It’s been a long time since the last time I drank good whisky actually. Thank you for inviting me to share it with you.”

“It’s my pleasure. There’s no joy in drinking alone.”

He smiled, scratching his short beard. “No, and the whisky is better in good company.”

They stood in silence for a moment, listening to Candy by Jo Stafford and John Mercer. 

“I was married once,” Claire said suddenly. Jamie shot his eyes up at her, rather shook by this revelation. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but decided to let her speak. She clearly had something on her mind, since she had started to talk about it. “His name is Max,” she said with a smile. This Max was definitely important to her. Seeing her face, Jamie felt a sudden rush of jealousy. “I met him before I joined the army. He was a soldier and he was just about to leave for the front when I met him. We spent a whole weekend together. I was in love with him, like I had never loved before.”

“What happened?” Jamie asked after a moment of silence. 

“We got married the day before he left. He was gone for months and then I joined the cause as a combat nurse. In five years we must have seen each other a total of… I don’t know… six days. When the war ended, we realized that the only thing that had kept us together was hope. Seeing the other meant we were still alive. I guess looking forward to our meetings gave us hope during the darkest days,” she concluded with a sad smile. 

“Do you know what happened to him?”

“Yes. He’s married now. He wrote to me a few months ago saying he married a long time friend and she’s expecting their first child. I received one of his letters today, actually. Their first child was born a few weeks ago. A little boy named Julian.”

Jamie couldn’t help but smile. Even if he was jealous of this man who had had Claire’s love and shared her bed, he couldn’t help but warm up at the idea that this man who had lived through the war was living happily. It reassured him to see that life went on for everybody.

“Where is he from?”

“Canada,” she smiled. “From Winnipeg.” Somehow, it reassured Jamie that this Max lived across the world. “I’m sorry for telling you.I’m just so happy to see him happy. When I read his letter, I could feel it in his writing, you know? When he would write to me during the war, he seemed so… scared, and sad. I’m glad things are going well for him.”

Jamie smiled at her softly. “It’s kind of ye.”

She shrugged. “It’s only natural. I care about him. There was a time when I loved him so much. I guess a part of me still does, not the same way I used to, but…” she trailed off and laughed nervously.

“I understand…”

She looked up at him, smiling teasingly. “You do? So there’s a Mrs. Fraser out there?”

“No,” he chuckled, blushing deeply. “No, but… I understand, I guess.”

“I know, I’m just teasing you. You know I love doing that,” she grinned, biting her bottom lip. He didn’t know if she was drunk, but she was definitely flirting with him. “Come on,” she said, suddenly getting up and giving him a hand. “Dance with me.”

He raised one brow, skeptically. “Dance? What makes ye think I can dance when I canna even walk properly?”

“I don’t want you to dance properly. I just want to dance with you.”

“I… I’d love to, but I dinna think…” he shook his head, embarrassed by his state. 

“Don’t worry, you can hold onto me. I’m strong, I can carry you.”

“You can carry a six-foot-four Highlander?”

She laughed. “Maybe not, but please…” she insisted, and he took her hand, leaving his walking stick by the couch as he rose and walked with her. 

Claire walked backwards to the middle of the cozy living room, and they clumsily tried to find a way to hold each other. Finally, she just held his waist and laid her head on his chest. They moved slowly, turning in small circles, listening to the voice of Jo Stafford.

Day by day,  
I'm falling more in love with you,  
And day by day,  
My love seems to grow.

Jamie closed his arms around her — and suddenly, his leg didn’t hurt anymore. She was in his arms, closer to him than she had ever been. 

Claire closed her eyes and sighed, inhaling the fresh scent of his sweater. He was warm and his chest was solid, yet there was a tenderness in his touch that made her want to surrender to him. 

“Are you alright?” she asked in a low voice.

“Perfect,” he whispered in her hair. She smiled, content. 

Claire’s legs were weak, both from the whisky and being close to Jamie, yet it had been a while since the last time she felt this strong. It had been months since the last time someone held her. It had been years since someone held her in a way that was not because of despair or the fear that she was the last person they were ever going to hold, but because of who she was.

So come what may,  
I want you to know  
I’m yours alone  
And I’m in love to stay.  
As we go through the years,  
Day by day.

Looking up at Jamie, Claire met his eyes. She didn’t look away, instead staring at his bottomless ocean blue eyes, almost turned black. She trailed her eyes down toward his wide, delicate mouth. 

She didn’t know what she was doing, but she reached into his hair and ran her long fingers in the soft red curls. She smiled shyly and rested her forehead against Jamie’s. 

“Claire,” he whispered. 

“Hush,” she answered, meeting his eyes again. Slowly, she climbed on her tiptoes and kissed him softly. Jamie closed his eyes and kissed her back, surrendering to her. After a moment, she pulled back and looked at him. Jamie opened his eyes and smiled, bending to kiss her again.

She deepened the kiss, licking his bottom lip. His hands trailed down her back and rested on her hips, holding her as close as possible to him. They kissed for a moment, until the sound of someone honking down the street interrupted them.

“Jamie, laddie! Are ye here?” screamed a woman’s voice from outside.

Jamie pulled back, looking at Claire with frowned brows. He went to the window and pushed the curtain away. Downstairs, his mother was standing next to a taxi in the rain. “Jamie!” she exclaimed. “Open the door to yer mother before she falls ill, will ye?”

***

Ellen was sitting in Jamie’s makeshift living room, wrapped in a plaid. Claire gave her a hot cup of tea. “Oh, thank ye, dearie.”

Smiling, Claire went to stand next to Jamie. The red-haired woman took a long sip of the burning beverage and sighed, happy. “That’s verra good tea.”

Jamie looked at her with a mix of happiness to see his mother and discomfort, regretting that she had interrupted a special moment with Claire. “Mother, what are ye doing here?” he finally asked.

“I missed ye, darling. I was feeling so alone in New York while ye and Jenny were back in Scotland. I decided that I should move back to my home country!”

“You’re moving back?” he asked, surprised, but happy to hear the news.

“Aye! I dinna exactly ken where yet. Maybe I’ll rent a small apartment in Inverness, or maybe Edinburgh, I’ll see. Probably here, it’s quieter for an ol’ lass like me!” she exclaimed, winking at Claire, whose smile widened. 

“You can stay here for the night,” she said.

“Well, I had hoped so!” she laughed. “I have nowhere else to go.”

“Right,” Claire chuckled nervously. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it. Good night.” She smiled at Ellen and her eyes lingered on Jamie, who held her gaze for a moment, long enough for his mother to notice it. 

“Goodnight,” he answered, watching her leave the room. 

That night, Jamie slept on the couch. He lied awake long after Claire shut off the music. He was looking at the ceiling, reminiscing their first kiss. He couldn’t help but smile like a fool every time he thought about it. He found himself wondering what would have happened if his mother hadn’t shown up. Would they have gone very far? He didn’t know, but he didn’t regret any of it. 

Just like every night before, when Jamie slowly drifted to sleep, he was full of hope and he couldn’t wait to wake up to see her again.


	5. Moving On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and leaving comments!

Jamie didn’t sleep very well that night. He woke up every hour, looking out the window, hoping to see the sun up in the sky. Morning was not coming soon enough, and he couldn’t wait to see Claire again. 

Since they shared their first kiss the night before, he felt butterflies in his stomach and his heart was beating to a rhythm he had never experienced before. He was smiling like a child, feeling his soul beam with happiness. 

After the war ended, when Jamie went back to New York, he was feeling so desperate. He thought his life was meaningless and that he didn’t deserve to live while some of his mates who had wives and families waiting for them had died. But now, he was starting to think that someone was waiting for him, but they just didn’t know it at the time. 

Jamie finally woke up to see his mother was gone from his apartment. He heard voices from down the stairs, and his smile widened when he heard Claire’s soft voice talking to his mother. He dressed up as fast as he could, cleaned up a bit, and made his way to the kitchen.

His mother was sitting at his usual spot, but he couldn’t help but be happy to see her. He’d missed her during the days spent away from her, and he was happy to know that she was coming back. He never talked about it, but he wanted nothing more than to be reunited with his family and live a life in the calmness of the Highlands.

“Good morning!” Ellen exclaimed when she saw him making his way to them.

Claire turned around to watch him sit in front of her, next to his mother. “Good morning,” he looked at his mother before his eyes drifted to Claire. She smiled softly, her cheeks turning a pale shade of pink. He could sense she had been thinking about their kiss as well.

“Those scones are heavenly! God, I missed Scotland. And that tea!” Ellen said, taking a long sip of the warm beverage. “Do ye think Mrs Graham needs help with the bakery? I could use a job.”

“You should ask her! She knows you know me, so I’m sure she’d be honoured. She does like me, especially since I give her free books in exchange for daily breakfast.”

“Claire told me everything about her little bookstore and the garden in the back store,” Ellen explained to her son, exchanging a knowing gaze with Claire.

“Her garden?” Jamie asked, surprised. “She never told me about her garden.” He looked at Claire with a raised brow.

“Well,” the English lady said, sipping her tea. “It’s a secret garden. And I won’t show it to you until you let me read your book.”

“Your book?” Ellen’s face lit up. “So you’re writing again?”

Jamie blushed and looked at his mother. “Aye. I think it’s going on pretty well.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “He’s written, like… three hundred pages.”

“Really? I’m so happy to hear that, darling,” Ellen said, cupping his cheek with her hand. “This place really seems to inspire you,” she added, sipping her tea.

Chuckling, Claire raised herself from the table and put her plate in the sink. “If you don’t mind me, I have to work. I’ll see you later, Ellen,” she smiled at the red-headed woman.

“See ye later, darling,” Ellen smiled back. 

***

Jamie and his mother were sitting on a bench by the River Ness, looking out at the city. It was a lovely, sunny day, and Jamie closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“She’s nice.”

“Claire? Aye, she’s very kind. She lets me work in her wee bookstore. I hope I’m not bothering her too much,” Jamie chuckled.

“She doesna look too much bothered by ye, my lad.”

“What do you mean?”

Kids were running after a colorful kite in the street and an old man was fishing in the river. Every day, when Jamie came to walk by the river, the old man was there. Jamie always wondered what his story was. Did he go to the war? The man looked sad and lonely, making Jamie think perhaps he had lost someone close to him. One day, he thought he should ask him.

“Well, if ye want my honest opinion, she looks quite fond of ye.”

“You think so?”

“Aye, I’m sure. She never stopped talking about ye this morning. And the way she looks at ye… she likes ye. Yer a kind lad, Jamie, and verra good looking,” Ellen winked, making him blush. 

“So?” he asked, changing the subject. “Will ye be looking for work? Do ye have an idea where ye want to live?”

“I saw a lovely house for rent on my way over here. Just outside the city. It does remind me of Lallybroch,” she smiled sadly. At the mention of Lallybroch, Jamie felt his heart squeeze in his chest. “I have enough money to buy it, I’m pretty sure. I could buy a car if Mrs. Graham hires me to work for her.”

For a moment, she didn’t say anything, instead only looking at the river, but Jamie could feel there was something she wasn’t saying. “‘Tis a big house for only one person…” she trailed off. “Would you like to come live wi’ me? There are big windows, I think ye’d like it.”

He felt his heart break. He loved his mother very much, and he didn’t want her to feel alone, but he knew where his place was. Especially after last night, the way Claire had kissed him, he knew he belonged there with her. 

Ellen saw it in his eyes and smiled. She didn’t need to say she understood and that she didn’t mind, he read it in her eyes as well. Still, she was sad, but she couldn’t blame Jamie for it. “So ye do love her? If ye’re writing a book about her.”

“How do you know—”

“I ken ye, Jamie Fraser. Never forget, I am yer mother. I made ye. I ken ye. And I ken when ye’re happy, I ken when ye’re sad. I saw ye write things in yer wee notebooks when ye were a lad. And now, I ken what an extraordinary woman Claire Beauchamp is.”

“Aye, that she is,” he smiled in response, looking down at his feet. “I am writing a book about a nurse in the army. I’m not writing about Claire’s experience, because she doesna really talk about it, ye ken? But… my character, I try to make her a wee bit like Claire. I hope she can be half the woman Claire is.. If she is, I’ll ken I did a good job.”

“I’m sure she is.”

***

When Jamie and Ellen returned to the bookstore, there was a car parked by the door. Ellen went to see Mrs. Graham, and Jamie walked into the store. There were voices coming from the kitchen. Jamie didn’t want to interrupt Claire and her guests, but he had to walk by the kitchen to go upstairs. 

He tried to make his way as silently as he could, but his walking stick was betraying him. He heard the voices of a man and a woman, but they were talking very softly. 

When he appeared in the doorframe and the man looked up at him, Claire immediately turned around. At the sight of him, her cheeks turned crimson red. “Jamie,” she said, getting up abruptly. He frowned his eyebrows at her, curious to know who the visitors were. By the way he heard them talk, he figured she knew them well. “Jamie, this is Max… and his wife, Margaret.” Her voice was trembling and she didn’t seem like her usual confident self. He wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms.

“This is Jamie Fraser. He’s renting the room upstairs, and he stays here to write his book,” she told the guests.

Looking up at the man, Jamie realized who he was. 

Max. Claire’s ex-husband.

He swallowed, feeling his cheeks turning slightly pink. “Nice to meet ye,” he forced a smile and rushed to his room.

He climbed the stairs as fast as he could under the circumstances. Breathless, he closed the door of his room behind him and sat on the bed. He closed his eyes, feeling his head throbbing from the effort. He grew panicked, threatened by the presence of her ex-husband, even though he had come with his wife. 

Jamie laid down on his bed and tried to think about the reasons why this man would have traveled across the Atlantic with his wife and their baby. Why had he traveled to Inverness? He couldn’t help but think it had been to see Claire.

He had no right to feel jealous. After all, Claire wasn’t his, even if they had shared a kiss. For months they had been living together, with no one bothering them or coming to stand between the two of them. No matter how much he loved his mother and how happy he was to see her, he already missed the days when it was only him and Claire. 

Seeing his mother and Claire’s ex-husband only reminded him of the years that he had spent months trying to forget.

***

“Why are you really here?” Claire asked Max. They were sitting on a bench by the River Ness, coincidentally the same one Jamie and his mother had sat on earlier. It was a quiet afternoon and the sky was pink, like the paintings she saw at museums. 

He sighed and looked down at his feet. He had changed a lot since the last time she’d seen him, almost two years ago. His hair was longer and curlier, and his eyes looked tired.

“I don’t know what to do,” he said in a voice so low she almost didn’t hear him. “I don’t know how to move on and live, pretending nothing happened. I feel.. empty, as if the reason I am alive, the reason why I was born is behind me, you know?” He looked up at her and she met his piercing blue eyes. She knew exactly what he meant.

“And you thought coming back to Europe would help you with that?”

“You are in Europe.”

“Yes, but… this is my home. It’s always been and always will be, even if it’s damaged. But it’s not your home.”

He kept silent for a moment, looking at the river, his jaw clenched like it was every time he was thinking deeply. “You know, before the war started… I didn’t even know where Germany was. My mom and I looked at a map on a wall in the street to see. She had never traveled outside her hometown, and neither had I. But you can’t understand that, at eight you had traveled the world,” he looked at her and smiled.

The corners of her mouth curled up and she remembered why she’d been attracted to him at first. The feelings came back into her heart like that first time, but only in the form of memories. It felt different from the numerous times she had thought about him during the war, wishing he was there. A constant weight on her chest. This time, it was different.

“I don’t want to sound like a coward, but…” he trailed off.

“But what?” she encouraged him.

“I keep thinking things would be different, I would be different if… well… if we were still married.”

She didn’t really know what to tell him. No matter how much she had loved him, or the idea of him, she had changed a lot since the day she met him, and there was no way she would go back to her old self again. 

Claire was just starting to make peace with the war and its end. It might have sounded crazy, but no matter how relieved she had felt by the end of the war, she had lost a family that day. Nurses and doctors she spent years living with. They had become close. When the war ended, they were sent back home to their old lives, as if they had to pretend nothing had happened. 

Nurses were expected to go back to their kitchens, and soldiers were expected to go back to their factories. No matter how hard the war had been, they had seen they could do so much more. It was like coming off a cloud they’d been living on for years. Claire understood how Max was feeling, because she had been feeling this way — until the day Jamie walked into her bookstore.

She had never wanted much in life. When she was young, she dreamt of an adventurous life. She wanted to become an archeologist like her uncle and travel the world. Then, she had wanted to become a nurse, thinking maybe she’d like to try medical school in the future. But the war had burned her out, and she no longer felt like she needed adventure in her life. She had witnessed enough for a lifetime. What she needed, she had it all in her bookstore, though there had been a missing part. The missing piece of a puzzle. A piece she didn’t know was missing until she met Jamie.

Claire took Max’s hand and looked deep into his eyes. “You would still be the same. What we had… wouldn’t change anything. Not anymore. You are married to a woman you love and who loves you. You have a beautiful baby, and I’m sure there are many others to come.”

“I’m not sure if that’s what I want anymore, Claire. I can’t stop thinking about us ... about how things were different when we were together. I wasn’t so afraid.”

“Things were different back then. You would have felt the same way with Margaret back then, and you would be feeling the same way today if I were her. You have to make peace with the past and accept that it’s all behind you. Maybe it will take you more time than it took for me, but one day, you’ll wake up and realize that you don’t mind carrying this on your shoulders anymore. You’ll wake up and realize that you wouldn’t change Margaret and your baby for anything in the world. Max, you are so lucky to have them.”

“I know,” he whispered, tears veiling his eyes. “I just don’t know how. How did you do it?”

She looked over to the river. There was an old man fishing and kids eating sandwiches by the water. “I found something that I love, a place that I love. You just need to find yours.”

He smiled at her. “You’re always so wise, Claire Beauchamp.”

“Not always,” she grinned. 

He chuckled and put his free hand on hers. “This guy… the red head.”

“Jamie,” she said, just the mention of his name making her legs feel like jello.

“Yes. Does he make you happy?”

“Oh, we’re not—”

“Does he make you happy?”

Claire felt her cheeks turn red. She met his eyes and her face told him everything. She couldn’t lie to anyone, especially not to him. He knew her too well. “Yes,” she admitted. “He does.”

“Let him know.”

***

Claire was happy about the way she had handled things with Max. For years, he drove her crazy. Just the thought of him would make her cheeks turn red and her legs go weak. For months after the war, she regretted letting him go. She knew she could never make him happy, but she thought that by giving him a chance at happiness, she was turning her back on her own happiness. She was happy to see that she had been wrong. 

After their talk, they hugged for a long time and he kissed her cheek. She realized that she cared for him, even if the love she once had for him was gone.

They made their way to the bookstore and she was feeling like she had never before. She felt completely free to love Jamie. Maybe, without knowing, she had felt the need to redeem Max or for Max to redeem her. Perhaps she needed to make peace with the war, by looking over her shoulder one last time before turning to the future in front of her.

She wasn’t scared. All she wanted was to climb the stairs leading to his room and tell him she loved him. 

She couldn’t stop grinning like a child, feeling butterflies in her stomach. The three-minute walk to her bookstore seemed endless.

When she opened the door and the bell rang, she heard voices stop talking from the kitchen. Frowning, she walked to where the voices were coming from and saw that Jamie was sitting with a short woman with dark hair, his mother, and a man with long blond hair. 

He got up and he saw her. “Claire, hi,” he said, his cheeks turning pink.

She glanced over at the people sitting with him, wondering who the hell they were.

“Uh… this is my sister, Jenny, and her husband, Ian.”

***

“I’m sorry about all of this…” Jamie said. They were both standing in front of the door leading to their rooms. The place seemed quiet for the first time in days. Everybody was gone, and no matter how relieving these meetings had been, they had also been exhausting for both of them, and they were happy to be alone together again. 

Jamie and Ellen had invited Claire to join them for dinner. She got to learn more about his sister. She was a sweet lass — on her guard at first, but as soon as she realized that Claire was actually a nice person, she started warming up to her.

Jenny and Ian were moving into a big house in the Highlands with Ellen. They didn’t really care for the city and thought the Highlands would be a better place to start a family.

Claire had looked at Jamie during dinner and she had seen how happy he was to see all his family reunited. They were all very kind and had immediately accepted Claire, making her feel like she could be part of this family.

“Don’t be sorry, your family is really kind.”

“Aye, but they all came out of nowhere into your bookstore at the same time… Max and his family did.”

“Don’t worry. They’re all gone anyway now,” Claire chuckled.

“Aye, well, goodnight to ye, then,” he smiled at her and turned to enter his room.

“Jamie.” She relied on her courage and called after him. “Would you like to come with me for a weekend to the Highlands? I’ve been wanting to travel around here since the first day I bought this store, but I never have. I thought maybe it would be nice to travel together, if you want…”

His face lit up. “Aye, I would like that verra much.”

She smiled, relieved to hear his answer. “It’s a date, then.”


	6. Home Again

Claire thought a lot about where she was going to bring Jamie for their wee trip in the Highlands. She didn’t want it to be too romantic -- after all they had never talked about their first kiss again -- and she didn’t want it to be impersonal. She determined where she would bring him while reading the papers a few days before they left.

She called to make sure there would be a vacancy for them. Fortunately, someone had cancelled and there was a free room with a king sized bed and bay windows on the Bens. She was sure Jamie was going to be happy about it until she put her suitcase in the back of the car. She started to worry he might not want to go there and would think it was bold of her to rent this room without asking him first. It was too late to go back now. Glenna was waiting in the car.

“You’re ready?” Jamie asked, coming out of the store with a small suitcase. 

“Yes,” she forced a smile and put all worries behind her. “Are you bringing your typewriter?”

He shook his head and she went to help him carry the suitcase to her car. “Thank you and no, I’ll leave the typewriter here. Just a wee notebook and a pen should be enough.”

Once they were ready to leave, Claire sat behind the wheel of the blue car and started the engine. Jamie sat next to her and looked at her with a big smile. “It’s very nice of you… To bring me wi’ ye on a wee trip.”

She smiled back at him. “Of course. It’ll be so much more fun with you. And you know the place, don’t you?”

“I havena lived in the Highlands in a verra long time. Besides, I dinna remember enough to tell you about places. Maybe a few stories and legends, but nothing more.”

“Well, that’s a beginning,” she smiled and started driving towards the road. 

The place Claire had rented wasn’t far from Inverness, but she took the longest road. She was in no hurry to get there. 

Jamie could feel she was tense, but he thought maybe driving made her nervous or perhaps nauseous. His mother always felt sick in cars. He wanted to ask if she’d rather be sitting on the passenger seat, but he knew fine well it was impossible. Not with his damaged leg. Once more, he cursed in his head, tired of the trouble brought by this injury. He really hoped time would make it better, but he wasn’t expecting it to heal at all.

“Are you okay?” Jamie asked, looking at her, worried.

“Yeah,” she smiled, pretending everything was fine. “The landscape is so pretty!” 

“Yes,” he agreed, not convinced by her answer. He was starting to know her quite well and if there was one thing he first noticed about her -- something that often amused him -- was her glass face. “Do you want to stop by the road and eat something?”

“I’m not quite hungry, but if you are-” she reached with her free hand for the bag containing food from Mrs Graham, but he stopped her. 

“No need, I’m fine,” he assured her. “Just thought maybe you were.”

“No, I’m fine,” she answered and an awkward silence fell between the two of them.

It wasn’t until Jamie saw the place that he understood what was going on. He froze and didn’t say a word, only stared in front of him as she entered the parking lot. 

When she saw his reaction, Claire regretted making the decision to rent a room there. She felt stupid for assuming he would ever want to go back to Lallybroch after all those years. 

“Is this… the place we’ll be staying for the night?” Jamie asked, his voice hoarse.

“Yes,” she mumbled. She tried to hide her crimson red cheeks by looking straight in front of her, hoping he wouldn’t notice her embarrassment. She parked the car and Jamie got out, leaving the passenger door opened.

She watched him walk to the building, looking around, an unreadable expression on his face. She finally decided to get out of the car and join him. He didn’t hear her come to stand behind him. Finally, a middle aged woman walked out of the main door. “Ye must be Claire Beauchamp!”

She cleared her throat before answering. “Yes, that’s me,” she said in a low voice.

“Welcome to Lallybroch! I am Mrs Fitz, the one ye spoke to on the phone,” the woman smiled at her warmly and invited them in. Jamie followed, not paying attention to what the owner said. “Right at the end of this hallway, there is the kitchen and the dining room where ye can come enjoy your meals. They will be ready by eight in the morning. Now, follow me upstairs, I’ll show ye to yer room.”

Claire looked over her shoulder at Jamie as he looked around, his jaw clenched. Feeling her eyes well up with tears of disappointment, Claire tried to pay attention to what Mrs Fitz was saying to stop thinking about Jamie for a moment.

“The painting on the walls were made by the first Lady who ever lived in Lallybroch, when the castle was established in 1702.”

Claire looked over them absentmindedly. It seemed like the way to their room was unending. “There!” Mrs Fitz finally said, stopping in front of the door. “Ye’re room 1753. Every room number is after a special event that happened to the inhabitants of the castle and the surrounding lands. 1753 is the year when the Dun Bonnet -- an outlaw, and the son of one of the Laird’s-- was captured by the English soldiers and sent to prison for participating in the Jacobite rebellions. The legend says he spent six years living in a cave nearby. He was alone except for maybe once or twice a month, when he came to bring food he hunted for his family.” Mrs Fitz smiled at them.

As much as Claire usually enjoyed history and learning about the legends in Scotland, now was not the right time. The owner didn’t seem to notice their disposition.

She opened the door and Claire stepped into the room. The walls were covered with blue flowered tapestries, frames, and paintings with vases and two brown leather couches by the fireplace. Claire had to admit the view was breathtaking. “I’ll send my grandson to bring ye yer luggage,” she smiled and closed the door behind her.

A heavy silence fell in the room and Claire immediately regretted Mrs Fitz’s departure. 

She was standing in the middle of the room with her arms crossed on her chest and didn’t dare look at Jamie although she could feel his eyes on her.

“You bloody well say something,” she finally said.

It took a few seconds before he did say something. “Ye kent we were coming here? Ye spoke to the owner?”

“Yes… I saw an ad in the newspaper and I thought… Well we were planning on traveling in the Highlands so I thought-” she hadn’t heard him walk to her and was surprised by his lips on hers.

When they pulled away, she finally looked up at him to see his eyes filled with love and tenderness.

“You’re not mad?” she asked in a shaky voice.

“Mad? No, Claire, I’m… I’m speechless, aye. Because nobody’s ever done anything like that for me before,” he smiled. 

“I thought maybe you’d be happy to visit your ancestral home.”

“And ye were right. I am beyond happy.” He held her gaze and bent down to kiss her again. This time, she kissed him back, throwing her arms around his neck and pushing her body against his. 

“Your luggage, Mrs Beauchamp,” a young teenage boy with blond hair entered the room with their two bags. “Oh,” he said, when he saw the couple kissing. 

Surprised, Claire pulled back from Jamie, putting her finger on her mouth, still feeling the warmth of his lips on hers. 

“Ian, laddie!” they heard Mrs Fitz scream from down the stairs, “how many times have I told ye not to go into our guest’s room wi’out knocking first!”

His cheeks turned crimson red as he looked up at them. “Sorry,” he whispered, leaving the luggage by the door before storming out of the room. When the door was closed, Jamie and Claire looked up at each other and burst out laughing.

“Weel…” Jamie chuckled silently.

“Do you want to visit the house?” She asked him.

“Aye.”

Claire had never heard Jamie talk so much since she first met him. While they walked around the house, he showed her places he remembered, despite being very young when they left Lallybroch. She was surprised by all the things, all the little details, he could remember.

Her hand in his, he walked her around, showing her the little places he liked to hide as he played and he told her how he liked to dress up as a knight to fight to protect the castle.

“I can see where your imagination comes from,” Claire smiled as they stepped out of the house.

“Aye,” he grinned, looking around the lands surrounding Lallybroch. “And my mother had a verra big library wi’ all kinds of books from everywhere around the world. You saw it. Most of her books are still there, she didna bring them all the way to America,” he smiled.

They walked around and he brought her to a little cemetery behind the house. “My father is buried here. Alongside my brother.”

Claire saw his name written on the grave. 

William Simon Murtagh MacKenzie Fraser  
1909-1914

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“He died before I was born. I always… I always wish I had the chance to know him.”

Claire put a free hand on his arm and laid her head on his shoulder. “I know,” she whispered.

He put his hand on hers and sighed. He knew she understood, she had lost her parents when she was very young. She knew what it was like to wonder how different life would have been if his father and brother had not died.

“It’s getting dark outside and I think it will rain soon. We should go back inside.”

Mrs Fitz was waiting for them in the kitchen with a hot supper. They sat at a small table and she put a plate of haggis in front of them. Jamie smiled at her and thanked her. When she left for the kitchen, he saw Claire looking at the meat in her plate.

“Haggis,” he smiled.

“Oh,” she forced a smile. 

“You never had haggis? In all the time you’ve been in Scotland?”

Her cheeks turned pink and he had to keep a straight face. She was adorable.

“Well, no… I never thought it looked quite… uh… tasty,” she whispered.

He chuckled. “It’s quite good, once you accept what it is.”

“What is it?” she frowned and he realized he had said too much.

“Oh, well… Just meat. Eat now,” he smiled and took a bit. It was delicious, the first time he ate haggis in a very long time. When he lived in New York, his mother would cook Scottish food from time to time, but it never tasted like this. “Mmm,” he said, “that’s good.”

Claire didn’t look very convinced, but she took a very little bite. He watched as her face went from disgusted to a surprised appreciation. “It’s not bad,” she said and took another, bigger bite.

“See, yer a real Scot,” he tried to wink at her, making her smile. 

Mrs Fitz came back with dessert and sat with them while Jamie told her he used to live here with his mother. She was surprised to hear his story and listened as he talked about the years before she moved in. She explained how she had come to buy the castle and he listened carefully. 

“I’m glad that Lallybroch fell in the hands of someone like ye,” he smiled. “This house… It’s been in my family for generations. Since it was built. But I see you have respect for the past and the history of the house.”

“Aye,” Mrs Fitz said, pleased to hear it. “And yer welcome to come anytime ye want! I think we can manage a deal for the rent of the room.” Her cheeks were pink and her eyes shining. She was an adorable woman and both Jamie and Claire felt welcome to come back.

After a long talk with the new owner, Claire and Jamie went back to their room. “I think I’ll go wash,” she said and went into the bathroom.

Jamie changed into his pajamas and lied down on the bed in the dark. He remembered the last time he’d been in this room. He was four years old and just had a nightmare. He remembered running from his room to his mother’s and climbing in her bed. He had been scared to death, but after she realized it was her little boy, she had let him sleep in her very big bed with her. 

He was so happy to be back. For so many years, during the war, when he was freezing to death in trenches or foxholes, he had longed for home. When he thought about home, he never thought about the apartment he shared with his mom and Jenny, but the old castle in the scottish Highlands. He knew he would never go back and his heart would break all over again.

Jamie always felt this house was the only memory he had of his father. Brian Fraser was born here and lived all his life here. Jamie would imagine him reading by the fire or working in the field. He would imagine him sitting with them during supper. He always wanted to come back and now he understood why. 

Jamie listened to the water running in the bathroom and tried not to imagine Claire in the bath. He couldn’t believe she had done this for him. He knew there was a chance that maybe he didn’t want to see this house again, but she had called Mrs Fitz, taking the chance. He smiled to himself and all doubts that Claire didn’t love him were gone.

Because of her, he had made peace with his past. He had let go of his demons and had turned to see the new day ahead of him. She had given him a reason to live - more than just inspiration for his novels. And now, she had given him the chance to make peace with his father’s death, with a childhood he had always craved after it had been stolen from him. The last thing he needed to deal with in order to heal.

He heard the door open and his blood froze in his veins. It was dark in the room, he could only see the shadow of her in her dressing gown walking to the bed. She sat next to him, looking deep into his eyes. She smiled, putting a hand on his cheek.

“Claire…” he whispered. His voice was hoarse.

“Yes?”

“I’m in love with you.”

Her eyes softened and she smiled, bending her head to kiss him. “I love you,” she whispered against his lips and deepened the kiss. She pushed him on his back and straddled him.

“Claire,” he whispered, gently pushing her away. 

“What?” she asked. He looked into her eyes and saw they were filled with tenderness, the moonlight reflecting on her white velvet skin. 

“I’ve never… uh…”

“You’re a virgin?”

He blushed and nodded. “And I dinna ken with my leg how I can-”

She interrupted him with a deep, noisy kiss on his mouth. He moaned lightly as she bit his lower lip. Her hands reached to his shirt and she lifted it over his head, before letting her hands travel down on his chest, goosebumps rising on his skin. She helped him take off his pants and looked at him, biting her lower lip. He blushed, not used to have a woman look at him this way.

“Well,” he said, breathless. 

She looked up at him and smiled. She opened the belt of her gown and slowly let it fall off her shoulders. 

“Christ,” Jamie said looking at her, his blue eyes turned black. “Claire, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

It was her turn to blush. She bent her head to kiss him again. He kissed her back, his hands caressing from her back to her breasts and her bare bottom. 

Jamie moaned when she took hold of his throbbing cock and guided him to her. She sat down on him looking at his face as she did so. He closed his eyes and opened them when she started to ride him slowly. 

Her hands were in his hair and his arms were around her, bringing her closer to him. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, groaning and biting her skin as she moved faster.

He didn’t last very long with all the wee noises she was making and cried out her name. They stayed in each other’s arms for a moment until she rolled on her side, looking at him a big smile on her face. “Was it like you thought it would be?” she asked sheepishly.

He smiled, looking up at her with pink cheeks. “Better,” he said, putting an untamed curl behind her ear. She kissed him and fell asleep in his arms. 

Jamie woke her up some time later and they made love again, always looking in the other’s eyes. It was the most romantic and erotic moment of their lives and they both wished this perfect night would never end. Even if they knew it was just the start of something beautiful.


	7. The Final Chapter

After Jamie and Claire returned from Lallybroch, everything changed, yet everything stayed the same. They still had their little morning routine, Jamie sat by the window while Claire worked around the store. But with every passing day, Jamie realized he didn’t need his walking stick as much as he did before, and when it was time to retire to their room, Jamie went to Claire’s room instead.

The couple often met Jamie’s family for brunch and Jenny became friends with her brother’s new wife. She often visited the store and talked about books with Claire over tea. They were very close and talked about everything together. Claire helped Jenny a lot after she gave birth to her first son, Young Jamie.

A few months after their trip to Lallybroch and Jamie’s proposal to Claire, his first book, Crossfire, was published and was a big success in the UK. Even if Claire didn’t agree, Jamie didn’t want to let her read the book until it was published.

“Why can’t I just read the damn book? I thought we were a couple, Jamie! Couples tell each other things.” She yelled at him one night in their room. It had been a long and stressful week with many people coming at the store to interview Jamie about his new book. Claire was tired and was starting to feel rejected that all the people she met had read the book, but not her.

“All those people liked it, why do you think I won’t like it? Anyway, my opinion doesn’t matter that much, I’m not a critique, after all,” she said, following him around their room.

“Yes, your opinion matters to me more than anyone who comes here every day.”

“And why don’t you think I won’t like it? Tell me!” she was insistent, driving him crazy.

“Because you inspired me to write it!” he turned to face her. “You were my muse and I was scared you wouldn’t like how I portrayed yo-”

She interrupted his sentence by throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. In the past weeks, they had been very passionate with each other.

“You really did that?” she asked, breathless after their kiss.

“Aye. From the moment I met ye, I kent I was going to write about you.”

She pushed him on the couch and fell on top of him. He kissed her back and they both tried to take the other’s clothes off in a hurry.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” She asked between kisses.  
“I was scared ye’d find it weird,” he said before moaning when she licked his bottom lip.

“It’s not weird,” she said, throwing her shirt on the floor. “I think it’s sexy.”

After they made love on the couch, Jamie told Claire to go get the book in the drawer of the nightstand from his side of the bed. She came back with a copy of Crossfire and sat next to him. Jamie put a blanket around her shoulders and she melted into his side.

“Read it to me, please.”

“It’s almost four hundred pages long,” he smiled.

She looked up at him. His cheeks were still pink and his lips swollen. She smirked and kissed him. “We have time.”

He smiled and patted her arms. “If that’s what you want.”

He started reading and Claire got lost in his words. Tears veiled her eyes as she saw how Jamie portrayed her. “You really think that of me?” she asked him when he was done reading a chapter.

“Aye, of course. And I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who thinks so, Claire,” he said, lifting her chin so she looked at him.

“I almost look likable,” she chuckled.

“Ye are very likable,” he bent his head to kiss her. “Ye’re extraordinary. For months after the war ended I tried to write, but I couldn’t. I felt paralyzed with fear and pain… When I walked through the door of yer bookstore and saw ye, my whole world changed. I thought that maybe the reason why I survived the war was to meet ye and write yer story.” He smiled shyly.

“Before you came into the store, I was feeling so alone. I wasn’t sure my place was here in Inverness anymore. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, but then you came and you were always here and I started to feel that maybe I was at the right place, but I was just waiting for you to come in and change my life,” she smiled back at him, caressing his cheek. “I never felt more alive than now, with you by my side. And to know that you think so highly of me, enough to write a book about me, I just…” she shrugged, her voice failing her. “Thank you so much.”

“I think we were both waiting for each other. I think we needed each other to mend our broken hearts.” 

“I think so too.”

“If I hadn’t moved back to Scotland and met ye here, I don’t want to imagine what would have happened to me.”

“I think it was meant to be. Don’t you?”

He smiled and nodded. “Aye. Meant to be,” he kissed her again. “There are so many great things coming ahead of us and I canna wait for our future together to begin.” 

They stared at each other, smiling. Jamie noticed Claire’s blood was rising to her face. “What is it?” he asked.

“I’m pregnant,” she blurted out.

He froze, not sure he’d heard her correctly. “You-”

“I’m pregnant,” she repeated with a grin on her face.

“I canna believe it!” he exclaimed and threw his arms around her. “Claire, that’s wonderful!” he kissed her, making her chuckle.

“You’re happy?” she asked.

“Don’t I look happy to you? Of course I am! How long have you known?”

“Just a few days. We’re going to be a family,” she caressed his cheek, smiling like he had never seen her smile before.

His heart was beaming with joy. They were planning a future together, but he never thought it would come so fast. He had never been happier than on this day and he knew this feeling was going to stay with him for a while.

Jamie looked up from his typewriter and saw Claire frowning in one of her dusty books. He couldn’t believe how round and big her belly was. The bairn was only six months, but it looked like she could give birth right on the spot. 

He couldn’t help the smile forming on his lips at the sight of her. She was lovelier than ever, her face beaming and her cheeks rounder than usual. He wanted nothing more but get up and kiss her. 

She surprised him, looking up straight through his eyes and very serious, she thought out loud.

“I could write a book with you.”

He was taken aback by the question. “What do you mean?”

“I mean we could write a novel together. Maybe not Crossfire deux,” she walked to him, very lost in her thoughts, “but something else. Many people do that nowadays.”

“I didn’t know you wanted to write,” Jamie said, intrigued by the idea.

“Me neither,” she frowned. She was so cute when she did that, with a little wrinkle between her brows. “But I’ve been thinking about it recently and I really would like to write. I’ve never written anything in my life except when I was traveling with my uncle, I always had a diary with me. But I was more of a reader than a writer. I guess I never had anything to say, but now, I think I do.”

Jamie smiled proudly and stretched him hand toward her. “You have a lot of imagination and you’re not afraid of emotions. You speak well and you are very smart. You’re thoughtful and interested in things that go around you. You’re going to be a terrific writer,” he smiled.

She bent and kissed him.

“I would very much like to write with you.”

“You really don’t mind? You’re a professional after all,” she smirked.

“And you’ll be one too,” he kissed her knuckles. “Of course, I dinna mind, Claire. I’ll be more than happy to share a passion wi’ ye.”

“You’re not scared the student will become the master?”

“That already happened,” he winked, suggestively.

She burst out a laugh and poked his arm. “Shut up,” she grinned and turned when the bell rang, announcing customers entering the store. He watched her walk to them, a stupid smile on his face. He had never been happier than being married to her.

After they came back to Lallybroch, Jamie asked Claire to marry her. They were in no hurry to get married until they learned Claire was pregnant. Jamie wanted to make it right and Claire was beyond ready, looking forward to calling him her husband.

So they contacted his mother and Jenny who were more than happy to organize this ‘’wee wedding’’ which turned out to be a fifty guest wedding. Still, it was the most beautiful day of their life.

Until Juliet came to this world. Their little red headed daughter. When they first held her, they were in love. Struck by a bolt of lighting. A feeling that couldn’t even be compared to how they had felt when they first saw each other. 

Jamie loved Claire more than anything and any person in this world, but when he first saw Juliet Fraser yawning, he knew he loved someone just that much. 

She was the most beautiful child with reddish curly hair and whisky eyes just like her mother. She was always happy, a big smile always plastered on her face. She had pink round cheeks and the most beautiful laugh in the world. Both Jamie and Claire were quite smitten with her, as was every customer who came into the store and saw the little girl, in the dresses her grandma or aunt Jenny had made for her, playing in the middle of the store.

The years after her birth went on quickly. Too quickly. 

They kept the same routine, but with a lot of variants. They ate breakfast all of them together. After breakfast, Jamie would go to his typewriter while Claire worked in the store. Juliet was a calm child that required much time left alone with her toys and sleeping in her mother’s arms.

When they closed the store, the little family went to eat supper in their apartment and went on a walk by the river with the dog. After putting Juliet to bed, Jamie and Claire sat in front of their typewriters and wrote. Three books in two years.

The first book took a moment before being successful, but the couple never gave up on hope. Along with Jamie’s Crossfire series on the side, they were making quite a lot of money for artists at this time.

When Juliet was five, Ellen was born and after that moment, both Jamie and Claire stopped writing until their daughters were old enough to not need as much of their attention. As soon as they realized free time for themselves was not a crime, they sat in their little refurbished apartment and wrote a completely different book that was an immediate success.

Claire and Jamie wrote until they decided to retire at the age of seventy nine. With the bookstore and grandchildren, they didn’t have the energy to write best selling novels. And they both agreed that they’d earned their retirement. 

After writing a few books on her own, Claire told Jamie she was ready to stop, but he could continue if he wanted to. He said he didn’t need to write anymore. At least, he didn’t need to write to be published. They both never stopped writing -- after spending their entire life doing it, they couldn’t just turn the switch off. So they wrote little stories for the other and their family, but they never published after their very last novel An Adventure of a Lifetime. 

 

Most of their stories were inspired by the war and by Claire’s teenage years spent with her uncle around the world. Their characters were inspired by people around them and people that came to their stores, but most of their characters were inspired by their two wonderful daughters.

Juliet became a writer and Ellen became an editor. Anything to make their parents proud. 

After their retirement, Jamie and Claire decided to leave the store to Juliet and moved into the house Jamie’s mother had bought, all those years before.

They often visited Lallybroch when they needed a break from Inverness and from their daughters. When they needed some time alone for themselves, they had their little safe heaven always welcoming them with open arms. 

When Jamie looked back on his life, he decided that no matter how hard things had been for him and Claire -- the loss of their parents, the war, the sorrow and pain they felt after witnessing the worst times in human history -- it had all led them to each other.

They often talked about it and every time, they agreed on the same thing. Even now, after all the pain and death and heartbreak that followed, they still would make the same choice.


End file.
